Nice one, Michael. Do you have a tune?

While we're on the subject, how about this, as a (much needed, IMHO) third verse to Blake's now sadly somewhat suspect masterpiece?

And shall the joy be thus confined:
Cease at the bounds of England's shore?
Shall minds be closed and hearts unmoved
As mute starvation pleads for more?
This must not be: we shall fight on;
Our love extend our greed destroy.
Then truly shall Jerusalem
The whole world o'er shout out her joy!